


Anarchy, After

by jibrailis



Category: St Trinian's (2007)
Genre: Chains, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibrailis/pseuds/jibrailis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrea ties Taylor up in her coffin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anarchy, After

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the locks/chains square at [Kink Bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/). Andrea's literary quotes are from Shaw and Camus, respectively.

Andrea slid the key into the lock and Taylor said, "Oi, you're going to let me out if I ask, yeah?"

Andrea bared her teeth. They were extremely white against her black lipstick. "I don't know. If you're good."

"'Cause I don't want to be stuck here while you fuck off to who knows where," Taylor said, yelping as Andrea sank her long nails into her thigh. "I mean, I'm already lying in a coffin. How weird is that?"

"Seems perfectly normal to me," Andrea said.

"Yeah, well, you emos—"

Andrea covered Taylor's mouth with her own.

"Mmggh fdsah—"

Andrea removed her mouth but replaced it with her finger. Black nail polish, skull and crossbones decal. "Silence is the most perfect expression of truth," she said dreamily. Taylor tried to bite her finger but Andrea was too quick for her. She straddled Taylor's hips and then slid the finger that'd been on Taylor's mouth a moment go beneath the band of her own knickers, which she'd bought for the occasion. They were lacy and very, very red. Looking at them made Taylor's stomach twist up in want because in the four months they'd been screwing each other, she almost never saw Andrea wear anything that wasn't black, knickers included.

The coffin was the smoothest, deepest black Taylor had ever seen. It was larger than what a coffin ought to be, and when Taylor said as much, Andrea snickered and replied, "Well, yeah. How am I supposed to bring people over and roll around in it?" Which made Taylor wonder just how many girls Andrea had fucked in this coffin before, and whether the others had liked it, and if Andrea had worn special knickers just for them and chained them to the silvery links in the coffin's velvety inside, which rubbed against Taylor's skin as she wriggled.

The chains were long and rough-looking, even by Taylor's estimation, and being a chav Taylor knew a thing or two about chains. These held her wrists tightly, and they weren't silk-lined inside either. They were the real deal, and no doubt she was going to have bruises later. She would've complained, but then she thought about what it must look like, her lying chained to Andrea's will, and okay that was worth it.

Still rubbing her finger between her legs, Andrea said, "If you want me to stop, say Dickens."

"What the hell?" Ever since they graduated from St. Trinian's and Andrea had started taking lit courses at the local university, she'd been obsessed with old fogey authors. It was how Taylor had run into her again; the girl she'd been dating at the time dragged her into the library because there was a guy who hung around the back shelves selling pot, and she'd seen Andrea right up at the circulation desk, dark hair and white face and all.

Taylor had thought about walking right past her – it wasn't as if they'd been friends back in school. But then again, there was something about having been at St. Trinian's together and stealing the Vermeer. So she'd said "hey" and Andrea had turned around and said "oh, it's you", which wasn't exactly cheers, right, so Taylor flipped her off and expected to never talk to her again.

Except Andrea rang her up a month later asking if she wanted to be flatmates because her current flatmate, a theatre major, "ran off with a fucking mime and I'm desperate to make rent for next month, and Annabel told me you were between places."

(Thinking about it, it was suspicious. Annabel was one of the few people from St. Trinian's who knew about Taylor liking girls, and apparently she was one of the few people who knew about Andrea liking girls too, and it turned out that Taylor wasn't the only one looking for a place to stay; Polly was in the area too. Except Polly liked guys. Probably. It was all confusing).

Andrea yanked Taylor out of her memories by yanking the chains. Taylor's arms flew up, puppet-like, and she stared up at Andrea's menacing expression.

"Oi, how'd you know that I don't fancy someone named Dickens?" Taylor said, fighting for control. "How do you know I'm not thinking about her right now and imagining her with me instead of you?"

As a reply, Andrea kissed her, mouth wet and warm and tasting like ginger from the takeaway stir-fry they'd had earlier. Taylor resisted for the principle of being tough, but it didn't last long. Then they were snogging properly with all the things Taylor considered good in a kiss: lack of air, a bit of teeth, tongue. Oh yeah, plenty of tongue. At the same time Andrea slid her fingers down Taylor's naked body and fondled her curls, which made Taylor groan into Andrea's mouth. "Okay, so I'm not thinking about Dickens," she admitted when they finally parted, and Andrea showed her teeth again as she pushed three fingers into Taylor's cunt.

"Move," she ordered, and Taylor fucking did it. She started rolling and rocking her body on Andrea's fingers, pushing them greedily into her. Her movements sent the chains clanking against the sides of the coffin, and that excited her – the _noise_ of it, the metal and the skin and the soft squish as Andrea twisted her fingers inside Taylor's wetness.

Andrea crooked her fingers and then holy shit she was making Taylor see white.

"Yeah," Taylor said. "Uhh, yeah, keep going." She arched her back as Andrea touched her sweet spot again, and the metal bounced off the coffin and back onto her wrists where she was suddenly very aware of how cold they were compared to the rest of her body, and how there was a slight edge of pain – but a girl didn't fuck Andrea without being afraid of pain, and you definitely didn't fuck Taylor being afraid of it either. So maybe Annabel had known what was what, yeah. They should send her a thank you card or something.

Andrea was rambling, quoting some dead guy to the rhythm of her thrusting fingers. "After another moment's silence, she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason." She loved her dead authors and her gloomy poetry, but judging by the eager smile on her face as she fucked Taylor, she loved sex even more. Thank god.

Taylor pulled on her chains hard. Then Andrea rubbed her clit, and Taylor said "fuck, fuck, you gorgeous bitch" as she came.

"Ow," she said later. "Let me out of these chains and I'll do you."

Andrea licked her lips and squirmed as Taylor inserted a knee between her legs, where she felt Andrea's dampness through those lacy red knickers. "Sounds good," Andrea said, adding, "You're not totally ugly yourself." She unlocked Taylor and examined the bruises with something akin to wonder. "Though there's beauty in the grotesque and—"

"Ugh, no thanks."

"Fine, be that way," said Andrea.

"Oh, you're not going to have any complaints about me when I'm done," Taylor promised and, grinning, set out to prove her point. Andrea in chains? That was an idea she could get behind. Literally.


End file.
